


The Melody of Dream

by zolarnite



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Song of Achilles Fusion, Emotional Manipulation, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Inspired by The Song of Achilles, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Reunited in Death, Self-Indulgent, Soulmates, Strangers to Lovers, The Song of Achilles References, Trojan War, i can't write as well as her but i'm gonna try my best, please help i'm gonna cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zolarnite/pseuds/zolarnite
Summary: The golden curve of his body glowed under the autumn leaves and his blade sliced through the air with unending grace.Those deep grass green eyes that reflected the embers of the sun to me is all but a window to the very heart which must never be touched.'The Greatest Warrior of Greece' they said. I could not breathe, my throat caught in the beauty of his dance. If in war he is but a dancer, then what is a warrior?('The Song of Achilles' but dreamnotfound)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	1. Lucid Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I read 'The Song of Achilles' and now my friend is demanding me to write a dnf ver. I'm gonna cry writing this but hopefully this stops me from crying over the book. I am forever haunted by her writing. 
> 
> Please enjoy the pain with me.

I was born a prince, though mediocre in every aspect. It was unfortunate for my father, who pushed me far from the role of eldest. A disgrace, was a name my parents bestowed on me, good at nothing. It should have angered me, but it was only a relief. I never did enjoy the stares of the people, I never cared for them. 

But just because my attention was out of the public eye, it was not out of the royal lineage. My cousins did not favor me and though I was the only child of the King, it did not matter. 

Even during the championships that were held in Greece, I could not participate because I was small. Yet every year since I was five, the boy that always won was the son of Thetis and King Daniel. The boy was sharp and clever, skin of honey and smile of a dream. There had been one year when Father was the host and he had me hold the wreath of olives. The boy came up, a beauty, and Father placed the wreath on his crown atop the golden locks that shone under the blazing sun. 

I grew up gangly with limbs that were more bone than skin, my face was my only saving grace. It was my father’s features I inherited, and almost none of my simple mother's. My boyish doe eyes stayed through my small years, even when I had been a mere of ten years. 

It was a year before I was gone when Father decided it was time for me to meet potential brides. The invitation was from King Agestes, of his daughters that were to be given as wives. There was Minx, who was a feisty lady with many opinions, Alyssa, who was a mild soft spoken lady and Niki, who was rumored to be the most beautiful of all Greece as she was the daughter of Zeus. 

The water glittered under the sky as the winds blew us closer to the shore of Sparta. On the shore there were people, the waiting entourage that led us into the throne room, wide and circular in all its glory. There on the dais sat three veiled beauties and King Agestes. I snuck a glance to see many men gathered. All eyes on their prize. Father shuffled me to our table and I kept my eyes down, my gauntness was enough to disgust the lean built men of Greece. 

“Welcome to Sparta.” King Agestes spread a hand and the introductions proceeded. Many of the men around me were older, young men. 

“King Urith of Locris. I am here to present my son, Prince George as a suitor.” My que to kneel came and I did it with as much grace as I had possessed. My brown curls hid my face and I kept my head bowed. 

“Isn’t he a little young?” A young man questioned. He was lounged at a nearby seat with a sly smile. 

“I am enough of a man for both of us.” Father was stiff, voice hard and I looked up slightly, catching the eye of the accuser. His obsidian whirls twinkled in amusement and he held up his hand before straightening. 

“I have a proposal.” Everyone shifted in disturbance, this young man was King Skeppy of Ithaca and he was a wild man. King Agestes was wary, but sought much advice for there were more suitors than he had imagined. 

“Why don’t we have Niki choose for herself who she wants to take as her King.” It was a smart idea and quite sweet. Thus the King relented and an oath was made so that the suitors would protect Niki and her husband, whoever that may be. It was a long while before all suitors were accounted for, King Skeppy as first. 

The air was electrified and buzzed with the anticipation of the suitors as King Agestes addressed the veiled lady in the middle. I thought I could see her fair hair peeking, but when I blinked it was gone. 

“Niki, who do you choose?”

“King Quackity.” The answer came more immediate than the men thought they would have to wait. And so it was thus that King Quackity now held the jewel of Greece within his arms. Father was not pleased and we left that very day. 

The air was hot with the sun of summer, murky and humid. The grass that pressed under my feet was fragile and I ran, as fast as a mare on her wobbly legs. There were shouts, closer behind me than I liked and I ran farther out, field after field until I was over a cliff. The beauty of the city below distracted me and I was pushed, teetering at the edge of the precipice as the hunter plowed into me. 

“Finally!” I said nothing, twisting with all my might out of his crushing grasp. 

“George, give it.” 

“No.” I wanted to sneer, but I favored scrambling back, away from the edge of my death. 

“I see what you have. Where did you get it?” I gripped my hand tighter around the golden frames of rimmed glasses. They were of a rare artifact, one which my father had given to me on my birthday, when he was drunk. It was the only valuable thing I had, and I carried it with me wherever I went. 

“It’s mine.” I retorted, standing out of Calvin’s reach. He was my least favorite cousin, full of pride and disagreeable nuisances. He did not relent, and I was weak. I would not stand it any longer. He rushed me, in hopes that I’ll topple and break my treasure, but I slipped the frame into my tunic and pushed him before he could touch me. With all my might I pushed, but it was too much and he was surprised. Caught in imbalance, he tumbled back, back and back, over the ridge. The wind howled, as if in warning and I ran. 

It was dusk, with the sunset painting across the sky like the blood that had stained my hands. I blinked and it was gone but I could hear the crack of blood and bones against the jagged rocks under the cliff. Not even the strongest winds could mute the loud deafen of death. 

Father was enraged, a king’s fit and my aunt wept in cruel tears. They could cast me out, kill me if needed and while mother was hidden, unbeknownst to the happenings of the throne room, I was exiled. Exiled to live with King Daniel of Pythia. 


	2. Companion

I had nothing but whispers of a life I used to have. The gold glasses were stained with the memory of that night and I chained it, hanging it around my neck and tucked in my tunic. The nightmares came and went, haunting my mind with the boy’s scream and the wind’s response. 

Now miles away from what was once home, I entered the Palace of Pythia. The servants bustled around and I could sense the many sights of the grand building but my guilt, shame, and pride hindered any exploration of curiosity. The guards led me past the pillars and to the wide doors of the reception room. The doors thudded open, revealing a youth lazing on the throne. His feet were kicked up, gently kicking the air as his body curved to hold the lyre that he was plucking. His fingers grazed upon the strings and his eyes were closed, his voice eliciting a soft hum. He did not turn to me and I felt anger but pushed it down. I was no longer a prince, I was but a mere boy. 

“What’s your name?” I stared. I am the exiled Prince, how could he not know. The boy waited for my response and when it did not come he tilted his head towards me. I did not know why I did not realize it but his eyes were molten gold, like the gold leaf tucked in his hair. 

“What’s your name?” He repeated, his expression showed no emotion and I scrambled to answer lest I was punished. 

“George….of Locris.” My voice pittered off but the Prince did not seem to mind. 

“Well, welcome to Pythia George, I’m Prince Dream.” I nodded, the name striking true and deep. His eyes flicked towards me before going back to his lyre. I was dismissed. 

My room was shared as I learned that King Daniel was a kind man. He was an orphan himself and his money was too plentiful to not share. My bed was near the back, and bare of any personal belongings. It did not matter, I was enough of a burden. I laid down, ignoring the other boys who chattered near the windows. They did not seem to see me and so I turned away, closing my eyes into a fitful sleep. 

A hand touched my shoulder and I practically jerked awake. When my eyes flew open the person was gone. Nevertheless, I searched the room until I saw a group of boys leaving. The darkness of the room was lit by torches, signalling the beginning of dinner. My bare feet burned against the cool tiles as I followed the boys to dinner, entering a long room with many tables. Boys and girls sat amongst different tables and the boys I followed strode over to one near the royals. I stopped in fear and searched for a place to fit in, an empty table near the door. I quickened my feet when I heard the opposite doors open, the royal entourage of King Daniel and Prince Dream swept in. The King sat at the head, with his consul but not Prince Dream. The Prince bounded over to the group of boys, arms slinging over one of the boys with a bandana tied across his forehead. None of the other boys seemed scandalized and I flushed at their comfort being so easy with one another. The food was worthy of kings and though the head table was filled with delicacy for gods, I was not envious. 

I was alone at my table, where only a few strays sat, though seats away and I grabbed my share of well cooked food. There was no entertainment except the company which I did not sit among and my eyes wandered to the Prince who sat, laughing boisterously into the air. His laugh was startling to me at first as I feared that he was going to deflate with the way it keened like a boiling kettle. Humor was embraced in those laughs and I felt my spirits rise slightly from the infectious happiness of the golden boy. The dinner was satisfying, snacks laid out after and the King’s consul left in tow of the King as they left the boys on their own. 

This started up a rise, the volume growing louder as the Prince leapt up in a flourish, cape sweeping. He smiled, teeth and all before picking up the small fruits from the platter. Everyone watched and I stared as the Prince threw three in the air and kept cycling, up and down in a never-ending whirl. I could not fathom how he could do such a thing so flawlessly and my wide eyes never left the Prince’s deft hands. 

The Prince joked and laughed, before his gaze turned to me and I only had a moment before he spoke, gentle but defined, “Catch.” The fruit landed in my hands and he mimed biting before I pressed the fruit up to my lips, eyes still locked with the Prince’s. He smiled slightly before turning away and I quickly finished off the fig he had thrown at me, the sweet tang bursting across my tongue. 

The night edged away as the room emptied little by little. I waited, bread still in hand as I rose to leave, glancing at the Prince who was playfully shoving his friends off, ready to depart. It was a moment, a heartbeat when his eyes met mine, before quickly sweeping away. With a swish of his red velvet cape, the Prince disappeared. The night was cold and I took leisure in the walk across the floor, the heat from the dining hall still swirling about. It was past the hour of rest before I slipped back into the room, boys lined in restful sleep. I drifted off, knowing that the image of terror would plague me yet again. 

The morning was met with sunshine and laughter. The boys of the palace gathered around the master, holding their swords in eagerness. My hands shook, the color red filling my mind, but I forced it down, leveling my gaze with my opponent. Yet before I could even swing, the master halted the session as a page boy scampered into the clearing, whispering something into the master’s ear before the said man’s gaze fell on me. He called me over and I received the news that the King would like to meet me as he was absent the day before. I managed by, kneeling and as repetition of the day before, gave my name. 

“George of Locris.”

“You’re here for murder.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“You do know what you have done?”

“Yes.”

“No matter, you will still make a decent young man.” King Daniel was kind, I bowed low, thankful. As I passed down the halls yet again, I should’ve felt like I could breathe but I couldn’t. My eyes strayed over the pillars of white and gauze of drapes that decorated the halls until I stumbled upon a pair of eyes. They were gone by the time I had blinked, but the unmistakable color of gold still seared into my mind made my heart stutter. It wasn’t long before the boys of the palace knew of my coming and the once ignored presence had become an interest in the topic. The stares, I could take, but the whisperings and the nudges made my skin prick in nervousness. The master no longer glanced over me, instead favoring to keep his sharp gaze trained on my every mistake, in wonder of how I could have pulled off such a felonious feat. It scared me, the power that the people here held. At dinners, the Prince gave me no more attention than a glance, a look, and once a wave. The lessons became suffocating, a threatening wave. So I left, I didn’t go. Wandering off I felt the looks fall away until I was alone, I was always better alone. 

The barrel tipped over, rolled away to reveal a standing boy. His hair was tousled and wavy, bright in curls. The hand which reached down to my curled ones were smooth and strong, they traveled up to the blinking eyes of seagrass. 

“Why are you here?” His voice was neither weighted in judgement nor accusation, but curiosity. 

“Nothing.”

“You’re supposed to be at sword’s practice, with the boys.”

“I don’t want to go.” I shuffled in more, pressing my back against the wooden panels of the pantry. 

“You’ll be punished.”

“...”

“What will you say?” I shook my head and shrugged.

“You have to say something.” He crouched down, leaning in until his face casted a shadow across mine.

“Alright, tell them I was with you then, you’re the Prince.”

“I don’t like lying.” He frowned as I shrugged, turning away from his quizzical gaze. Instead of leaving me, he grabbed my hand, tugging me to stand up. 

“C’mon then.”

“What?”

“Come with me to my lyre practice, that way I won’t be lying.”

“I don’t play.” I wanted to tug back my hand but the warmth was comforting. 

“Just watch me then.” And that was that. There was no arguing with the Prince and although it pricked my nerves, it was better than getting whipped. He led me down the hallways, servants stopping to watch in amusement before doors opened to a room which an instructor was in. The music master blinked in surprise and was about to retort with some grand speech when the Prince cut in. 

“This is George, he will be with me today.”

“You must inform your father of this.” the Prince nodded and settled down on the cushions, dragging me with. I sat, stiff and uncomfortable as the music master looked at me in distaste. Prince Dream picked up a lyre and I had to look down lest tears unveiled my feelings. The lyre which the Prince held in his gentle course hands was my mother’s, given as a payment for my shelter. 

I felt a prick of flared anger that I had to push down, I was no longer a prince and the lyre was now not mine. The strings were plucked under strong careful fingers and I couldn’t help but watch with awe. The light of the afternoon sun was filtering into the pavilion, as if in calling as the rays danced across the floors and to the golden youth that laid stretched across the cushion. The rays bathed the Prince’s honey skin in golden hues, lighting up the youth’s whole essence. My breath caught in my throat and I focused on the music, closing my eyes to stop the thundering of my heart. The Prince was beautiful, there was no denying it, he was the specimen of the male entity even at just the age of ten years. 

The notes lulled into a soft hum and those light eyes rose to meet my bewildered expression, their iris gleaming in amusement and pride. He held out the instrument to me and I shook my head, gazing down. 

“I can’t play,” the Prince rolled his eyes, no propriety whatsoever and leaned forward. 

“I’ll teach you,” his voice was soft and delicate, a coax, but I swallowed and looked up with defiant eyes. 

“You play,” he was so close and we blinked, but then he fell back, fingers already dancing over the strings and his mouth curled up into a smile. 

“Very well, listen then,” and that was that, the lesson carried on. 

After the lesson, which I had done nothing but watch the Prince weave music into stories, the Prince dragged me to the throne room, throwing the door open. King Daniel lifted his head from the book in his hands, no consul in sight as the two boys approached the throne. The King closed his book, eyebrows already quirked in inquiry. 

“Father, this is George.” King Daniel blinked but nodded. 

“He will be taking lessons with me from now on.” This startled the King and he leaned in with a curious gaze. 

“I wish to take him as my companion.” Companion as a sworn brother of arms in war and love, as well as the high advisors of the Prince. This was a high esteemed position which was why the boys were so keened to find his favor. I gaped at the Prince in pure surprise. 

“I know that I have encouraged you to take up a companion, yet you never have.”

“Until now.”

“Until now. You do know what he has done and who he is?” I dropped my head and flinched slightly at those words before snapping my head back up as a pair of bare feet stepped in front of me, stance protective. 

“I know, and he will be my companion.” 

“The other boys will be envious, are you sure?”

“Yes.” The Prince and king stared at one another for long moments, their same-like eyes having some sort of conversation that I knew I was not privy to. 

“Very well, Dream and George stand up.” We rose from our position on our knees and I got up a bit dizzily. 

“George you will apologize to the training master, but that is all. You are dismissed.” Then it was the Prince’s hand pulling me away. Suddenly we were in the hallway, the torches flickering against the walls as my heart beat against the walls of my chest. 

“Wait, your high–”

“Dream,” he cut me off and I furrowed my eyes. 

“Pardon?”

“You will address me as Dream, just Dream,” his voice was not unkind, not commanding, but like a friend. I nodded.

“You’re my companion now. I will see you at dinner,” he gave me a lopsided smile and turned on his heels. I called out where he was going and he answered that he had sword practice. 

“Alone?” I inquired, and he nodded. 

“No one has ever seen me fight.” 

“How come?” I stepped closer to him, interest peaked. Dream seemed to be weighing a decision before carefully responding, “My mother forbids it. Because of the prophecy.” 

“What prophecy?” I had not known of this. 

“That I will be the  _ greatest warrior of this generation _ ,” the conveyed message was neither boastful, but more of an honest truth.  _ Are you the best? _ I wanted to ask, but instead managed to stutter out a different question. 

“When did the prophecy come?” 

“Just before I was born. Eleithyia came and told my mother.” Eleithyia, goddess of child-birth, and it struck me as if it should have been a surprise. I had forgotten that  _ his mother was a goddess _ . 

“Is it known?” Dream shrugged and started walking away again, throwing his last greeting over his shoulder. 

“Some do, it doesn’t really matter. I’ll see you at dinner,” I waved back as he turned a corner and I shook my head. The prophecy stayed stuck in my mind but I left in search for the training master before being free to roam around as I pleased. 

Dream was already at the table when I arrived and his eyes glanced down to his side, a signal for me. I slid into the seat next to him and eyed the boys who were gathered around warily. They all looked curiously at me, some in awe, others in fear. Digging into my food was no problem and Dream’s easy carry of conversation was a distraction that I wholly accepted. Soon after dinner was over, Dream gestured for me to follow him. 

“They moved your stuff to my room, you and I will sleep together,” he led me away from the familiar corridors and into the section of the palace that I had never come to; for they were the residence of the royal family. The birch door swung open to reveal a vast wide room with flowing breeze from the soft drapes tied around the opened columns. The balcony stretched out behind the white columns, revealing a starry sky with a bright white moon that shone in greeting. There was a cot across from Dream’s bed, the bedding looking finer than my old one. I sunk down into the sheets and with wide eyes, turned to the Prince. He was watching me with an unreadable expression and he closed the door before throwing himself onto the bed. I could only watch as the golden curls spilled over the white covers as the youth splayed himself before closing his eyes. 

“Goodnight,” he said, voice melodic in a lullaby. “Goodnight,” I replied. Though Dream’s peaceful snores filled the air, my eyes stayed open. My heart and mind were still catching up to what had happened today and I pressed my fingers against my eyes then the bedding. This was my life now,  _ companion of the greatest warrior of this generation _ . My thoughts swirled with uncertainty and many questions.  _ Why me? _ I thought. I was only an exiled prince who was no help to anyone, much less this fated legend. I felt doubt rise in me but then I remembered his encouraging smiles and kettle like laugh. I swallowed when my eyes turned to fall upon his restful face. The moonlight that filtered in showed the curve of his nose, the long curled lashes that brushed against his cheeks, and the now pale tone of his sun kissed skin. I shuddered a breath and shut my eyes, sleep taking me after a few moments. 


	3. Blossom

I soon adjusted to the life alongside Dream. I was with him at all hours of the day, no longer did I just stare at him with doe eyes, slowly warming up to the dynamic that we created. The lessons I took were now with Dream, though I mostly watched the sun bathe his figure in a glow as he played my mother’s lyre. His gold eyes would crinkle in smiles whenever I remarked on his music, lips pulling up in a smirk. The prince, though playful and kind, was very mischievous and sometimes cocky. But I didn’t mind, only letting that annoyance flare in me when I could, and pushing it away when he came too close. It was always too close, as the days of friendship passed by. 

We’d talk, when first it was just his tirade of stories. Ones of the sea and trees, swept under his feet, training in the sun. He would paint the picture of his day to me, coaxing my thoughts out like a newborn lamb. Soon the tight lipped answers loosened into drawn out breaths and jovial words. It became easier to speak and paint my own picture. And he would smile upon me, proud and warm. Then one day, when Dream’s smile was taut, pulled thin with nervousness, I felt my heart skitter. It wasn’t normal for him to be hesitant, eyes darting away from me. I was too shy to ask, scared that it was something to do with me; a coward move , but what else was there to ask?

I had stepped away from his side, letting him go to his private drills when he spoke up. 

“Why don’t you come with me?” I stopped, confusion hazed. Dream shifted, steady hands flexing over his leather straps. 

“Me?”

“Yes.” I tried to find the boast, the jester in his eyes but found none. I had always wondered what moves _The Greatest Warrior of Greece_ had. I had always wondered what a god born child held in his powers. 

“Are you sure?” 

“You’d be the first,” the words cut through. The honest question melted my uncertainty into curiosity. 

“Alright then,” I said. 

He led me through the halls and out into the open field, past the trees to a meadow that seemed to bloom in greeting. We visited the arms house and Dream picked a spear, the ease in muscle like a natural sense. 

“Should I?” My eyes wandered to the assortment of weapons stacked against the walls, hanging in shining splendor. He shook his head, selecting his own weapons: a sword strapped to his waist and a spear held in his hand. 

“I do not fight with others,” Dream narrowed his eyes at the tree in the distance. 

“Never?” 

“No.” His answer was final and I watched his gaze. 

“Then how do you know that you're…” I trailed off, the question hanging open under the sky. Dream looked at me, understanding what I meant.

“That the prophecy is true? I don’t.” The answer came firm, his eyes trained back on the tree. He readjusted his grip. 

“Then how-” my words were caught in my gasp. Dream threw the spear, the tip slicing through the air with wind fueled fury. The tip glinted under the sun and the precision of perfection dawned upon the tree as the spear struck true. It had looked effortless, the concentration and movement seeming to be instilled in his bones. There was no denying that this, _he_ , Dream was the ‘ _Greatest Warrior of Greece_ ’. 

My awe was stuck in my throat. I almost did not breathe as Dream swung his sword, cutting through air like fish in water. He landed, feet soft on the grass and laid his eyes on me. 

“Who trained you?” 

“My father, when I was little.”

“Anyone else?” He shook his head, _No_. 

No one else had trained him. No one had seen him train. No one but me. 

“Fight me.” I said, rising with excitement. He stared at me. 

“No.” He was running, across the meadow and to the tree. 

“Why?” 

“It is not time.” 

“Come back and fight me.” I scrambled after him, grass tickling under me, urging me forward. The envy and fury burned from within. The perfection that came in the form of a god child. It pushed against me, pushed me to go forward. 

“No, do not ask again.” He wretched the spear out of the tree, spinning the handle and watching me run to catch up.

“You can not forbid me,” I was panting. My eyes wide with awe, fury and envy. The vines seemed to twine up my heart, the beating erratic against my chest. I could not see his thoughts, the haze was too strong. 

“No.” 

“Are you afraid?” I had not been trained much, my physique would not allow me. I knew that I would have no chance with Dream, but I left the warnings to the wind and tossed myself forward. 

“I am not.” He turned away, leaning the spear against the bark of the tree. 

“You should be.” I said it as a joke, trying to ease myself, trying to ease the atmosphere. Yet the way the words hung, turned the words bitter. Dream stood unmoving, back turned to me. The raging fire spread across my skin, licking up the energy. 

_Look at me_ , he kept his back turned, _I’ll make you look at me_. 

I leapt, my heart racing as my arms circled his waist, slamming down on him. The blow took a breath from me, but I held on, even as he twisted like an eel. My face was pushed into his tunic and I laughed. I heard a huff of breath from him, amused. But before I could speak, he twisted under my arms, his hands coming up to my wrists. They pull me away and down on the grass, pinned above my head. His body hovered over mine, knees digging into my side as I squirmed, unsure of what to do. 

“Let me go!” I pulled and tugged, but he kept my wrists pinned, eyes unreadable. 

“No.” he smiled, lips pulling into a jest as he watched me struggle against his grip. I was panting, angry with what I could not understand. 

“I’ve never seen someone fight like you,” I told him. 

“You haven’t seen much.” I bristled despite the mildness of his words. 

“Still.” I did not understand the keenness of anger and envy that flared and I turned my head to the side.

“I meant-” I cut myself because what words were there. His eyes gleamed knowingly, making me flush. There was no use in words for the pretty compliments would pale against his skill. 

“There’s just no one like you,” I said, at last. 

He regarded me for a moment before shrugging, fingers gently squeezing my wrists. The gesture melted the anger in me and I let it slip off me and slither somewhere else. Who was I to begrudge something he had no control over. I sighed, softening into a smile. His eyes lit in stars and he smiled like the sun. 

We picked up his weapons, the spear held in my hand. He took my wrist in a tug and pulled me off to the stream that ran along the river. Letting go, he jumped up on a gray rock, the heel of his feel landing with grace. I climbed after him, heaving the spear and myself up to lean against his frame. We talked, the voices dipping up and down as the trees slowly hid the sun. I told him of the boy I killed, my cousin who I hadn’t meant to push. 

“What did he want from you?” Dream asked.

I reached into my tunic and pulled out the framed glasses that had long since lost the glass and left only the frame. The gold chain was almost rusted, but the beauty was still there. “This.” I answered and he took the frame in gentle hands. 

He flipped in and pulled it closer to his eyes before looking back at me. He hummed and told me the frame was beautifully crafted. When he handed it back to me, it felt special, like he understood what the frame meant.

“Why didn’t you say you were defending yourself?” There was no contempt or accusation in his tone, only curiosity. I did not know, so I turned away, head hanging. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Or even have lied that you already found him dead.” I stared at him. The simplicity of it hit me, making me feel like an idiot. The following revelation came in a flash and I grit my teeth. If I had lied, I would still be a prince.

I did not want to think of what could or would have been, instead I turned the question back on him. 

“What would you have done?” Dream leaned back, weight shifted to his hands behind him. His eyes tilted to the sky with quiet contemplation. 

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine it.” He set his eyes back on me. 

“I’ve never had someone try and take something from me.” I blinked in surprise. His words stung a bit, like a pin to the flesh. How could no one live through a life with no rebukes. I stared off into the sunset. 

“Never?” I felt the pedestal which he sat rise higher.

“Never.” He hummed for a bit, eyes closed in wandering thoughts. “I think I would be angry.” He laid down, back and head rested upon the rock, letting his hair splay against the surface. His golden hair somehow still glowed under the dusk sky, the twirls of gold curling above his head into a crown. 

I still dreamed of my cousin, the horror set within his eyes, my fingers that pushed against fine silk. The smell of the sea salt would suffocate me, the night dragging out into the open moonlight. I’d wake in cold sweat, terror running down my spine, but the soft breaths that come from him soothes me. The gentle curve of his nose and golden glow of his hair reflect in my obsidian eyes as the wash of the sea lulls me back to gentle sleep. Slowly, the nightmares faded away, replaced with dreams of laughter and daytime. 

Dream would greet me every morning and bid me goodnight every evening, it was a tradition. His nose would be felt, pressed against mine, the oils he rubs into his skin filling my senses. I’d push him off, and his laughter would fill the room, bringing the birds outside the window to life and a bashful smile upon my face. 

But it was not every day, for sometimes he would be out before I was awake and back long since I’ve had breakfast. He would bring in the scent of the sea, salty and fresh. His hair swept up in a leather tie that left his long hair in curling beauty. I know from those days that he had gone to meet his mother. It was those days, that I remember that he is the son of a goddess and that he was more, more than I could ever touch. When those days came, I would hear the songs of the sea on the lyre, the oils dampened by the salty air and the warm glow that seemed to embrace Dream wherever he went. 

I know that it was those days when I woke past breakfast, cold air greeting me. I would grab something, bread or fruit and wait, wait for Dream to come home. He’d come climbing through the window, a smile on his face as he met my gaze from my cot. 

“How is your mother?” I’d ask, playing with the sheets. It was a greeting more than a question, like it held more symbolism than I wanted to understand. 

“She’s well,” is all he would answer. The same answer every time, but it was routine and I was good with routine. This time, he came in early and instead of walking out to breakfast, came up to me, with cold hands and troubled eyes. 

“She wants to meet you.” His voice was strained, underlined with uncertainty. I felt fear erupt, but I did not show it. 

“Should I?” I questioned, I would only go if Dream let me. I wished I wouldn’t have to. 

He only nodded his head. “Should I bring a gift?” He shook his head. 

“She has specific tastes.” He replied, voice clipped like the sting of salt to a wound. I let it go and followed him out to breakfast. 

Later that night, I slipped out the window, knowing where to go. Dream had told me that she would know that I was there. Like all gods, his mother was no different; not to be commanded to show for anyone. The waves washed up upon the sand in rhythm, the sand snagged between my toes. They made me curl my toes as I walked forward, letting the water wash over them. There, I heard the crash of waves break against the rocks, the light of the moon-jellies shine under the darkened waters before feeling the rush of wind and sea spray blown into me. It was not a warm welcome, coming from the cold beauty. 

There she stood before me, tall with stature and black cascading down her back. The cloudless sky showed the pale smooth skin, glistening under the moonlight. She was taller than me, taller than any woman I’ve seen. I could barely look at her, her iris the color of darkness, flecked with gold. It was suffocating, her presence pulled all warmth from my skin. 

“So you’re George.” I felt my ears grate, wanting to wince but too scared to. I had expected the softness of crashing sea waves, not the course rub of sand against stone. 

“Yes, Lady” I answered, because god forbid I disrespect a goddess.

She seemed to bristle under my words, distaste clear in her expression. She would not find pleasure in the presence of a mere mortal, a tiny obstacle in her grand plan. The hostility should have sent me gone, running over the hills, but I stood frozen. Partially in fear, and partially because this was for Dream, for him I would stay.

“He will become a god.” She hissed, looming over me with her height. She was so close I could smell the sea water, see the kelp that hung like a shawl around her figure. There was no soft sea breeze that Dream always carried with him, but the sharp sting of the sea salt assaulting my senses. I cowered, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. I knew, I had always known. Dream was never meant to stay, or so she believed, and I too, believed but didn’t wish. 

“Do you understand?” Her breath grazed against my cheek, the inky hair falling around me. I hold my breath in terror. Her words commanded an answer, like a sharp blade held to my throat. 

“Yes.” I said, a wavering voice. The courage that I could not muster fell flat against my attempts and she drew back like she was burned. Eyes cold with disinterest. I felt her words sink in deeper, etching into my skin, leaving the message that I knew from the start: _I would eventually lose him._

“Good,” she tossed her hair in a flow and carelessly spoke, as if more to herself than to me. “You’ll be dead soon enough.” 

I shuddered under that conviction. I blinked and she was gone, she waited for no goodbyes.

Her words rang in my ears: _You’ll be dead soon enough_. I was never meant to be his companion. I was never supposed to be in the picture, but here I was, at the right hand of her pupil, a stain to his success. She would not kill me herself, for what is a measly life of a boy compared to her prowess. Her desire for her pupil to become a god was ambitious, yet she made it sound so simple. She had stated it as if it were obvious, that Dream would one day be a god. I could not imagine Dream as a god, for gods are cold and distant, not the warm wheezing laughter of the sun kissed boy I know.

She had her ambitions high, but even demigods were hard to make immortal. The ones that have had the blood of Zeus, the strong ichor that could strive against all bounds. But Dream was the son of a lesser of lesser gods. Thetis is only a sea-nymph and although her powers were great for mankind, it was not much to the eyes of the gods. 

I did not immediately go back to Dream, I could not. My feet took me wandering under the starry sky. I did not want to smell of the salt that I knew would haunt me. I went to the rock by the riverside, the one hidden behind the brushes. The fresh breeze of misty grass and newborn leaves soothed the sting. I could see the stars above, like fate written even up where no man could reach. I would eventually lose him. My heart clenched, in an ache I could not understand. It was past the days begin and I still sat upon the rock in silence. 

It was Dream who later found me, his footsteps announcing his arrival as the branches swayed under his palms. 

“Hey.” He stopped at my feet.

“Hi,” my voice was faint and tired. I lifted the forearm that blocked out the sun to see his golden waves greet me. 

“She said something, didn’t she.” I could only give him a sheepish smile, half covered by my forearm. 

“She told you that you would die soon.” I blinked at him, startled. 

“Yeah, she said that.” He looked apologetic. 

“She said that you’ll become a god.” It came out more breathless than I realized. His face twisted into embarrassment, bringing up a hand to rub at his neck. It’s times like this that I realize that he isn’t god, yet. He’s only twelve and a child with parental expectations. He could only huff. 

“Do you..” I swallowed. It was hard to ask. I wanted to drop the question, but the itch under my skin, the curiosity and crawling feeling of loss pushed out the bitter words. “Do you want to be...a god?” 

Dream caught a leaf falling from the branches above. The leaf looked so fragile in his hand, but his soft palms held it like a soft treasure. I did not want to think of what would be taken when he becomes a god. “I don’t know.” He rolls the leaf gently between his fingers. 

“I don’t understand what my mother wants.” 

“But do you?” My hands clenched, like a plea bleeding into my words. 

“Not yet. I don’t want to yet.” He blows the leaf away and looks at me with a boyish smile. I feel a tension that grips my heart like a clamp eases a bit. It felt like a trickle of air slivered into my lungs and it strikes me that he was only twelve. We’re just boys, not the age for war, not the age to know more than the satisfied aching bones of a day running around the fields. 

It seemed to me that his eyes held a softer tone and he held out his hand. I look at the hand with many thoughts swirling through my mind. I would not lose him yet and that was enough for me. A mischievous smile light on my face, pushing the bitter fate behind my back. 

“Race you!” I bolt up, feet pushing me forward and not a glance behind. The wind caught me as it urged me on with the loud laughter that followed from Dream. I ran, ran like I was shedding my skin, shedding the fear that had clung on to me all throughout the night. I would not lose him yet, he was beside me, free and laughing.

  
  


Half a year passed, the seasons flowing in its course. The air grew colder, and we were gifted thicker furs that draped across our body. They wrapped me in safety and reminded me of an embrace I had almost forgotten. Her smell was gone, I no longer remembered, her voice even less-but her eyes would always be burned to the back of head. It was the one feature that I received from her, her broken chocolate eyes that were flecked with gold. It was the only reason why Father kept her, it was her greatest gift to me. 

The cold front brought in the new year of my age, it pulled at me and I grew. Taller by a bit, though not by much. The once scrawny white limbs collecting color and muscle. Still Dream was taller, his height never stopping as I watched him stretch until he laid under blankets in pain. Spring came after, the air no longer wrapped around me like a sting, warming into the same familiar life that surrounded me. By now the boys had included me within their group, we played as the sprouts shot from the biting cold ground. 

But as we grew, the older boys strayed more from our laughs and to the chambers which I used to share. The boys would go in with whispers of pleasure and the sounds would fill the halls. I could not fathom how it worked, even though I could take one of my own. They talked of her softness and curving bodies, but I see the way the girls let their hair down. I see the way they don’t show more than needed. It was normal for the women of the household to be bedded by the boys. Some I knew were from love, others were only from the desire of the flesh. I looked towards Dream who’s eyes never wavered to the girls and I wondered if he would take any. Easily any girl would lay themselves before the prince and I as his companion would also equally be wanted. But Dream never took one, so I never looked. 

Some nights we would lounge in the chamber with the old man, listening to his tales like children before bed. I was carefully sat on a chair while Dream splayed his limbs across the pillows on the floor by the fire. King Daniel had curled in his usual chair, twirling his wine in one hand. His eyes were closed as he told us The Story of Meleager.

“Meleager was a fierce warrior who won many battles for Calydon. Yet one day, the King of Calydon offended Meleager. He said that there were many capable men in Calydon, how was Meleager any different?” 

I was watching Dream as he stretched with a non discrete yawn. His muscles pulled with the shadows from the flickering flames by him and his eyes glowed like a wolf. It made me remember a girl I had overheard that day. She had pulled her dress down, a peach patch of skin freeing from the cloth and had turned to her friend with a whisper. “Do you think he noticed me?” I had looked past her too see Dream humming in the room, snacking on grapes. The girl paid no attention to me as I walked by, but I could tell her eyes had glistened with hope as I shut the door. 

“Meleager heard what King Calydon said and refused to fight for Calydon.”

A tug at my ankle pulled me out of my thoughts and I looked down to see Dream innocently smiling. 

“Now Calydon had many enemies and when they heard that Meleager no longer fought for Calydon, rushed in to conquer.” 

I take a glance at Dream with a sly smirk and nudge my foot into his side. His smile curled and I pulled my foot back. He caught it, wrapping his fingers over my ankle. 

“Calydon lost much, but when Meleager was begged to come back, he refused again. Instead he went back home to be comforted by his wife.” 

Dream didn’t give me a warning before he yanked my ankle and I almost slid out of my chair. I bit my lip to keep in my muffled scream as my fingers clutched at the arms of the chair in an attempt to right myself. 

“The people of Calydon cried out for Meleager to come back. And-Dream are you listening?” King Daniel opened his eyes with a small smile. 

“Yes Father.” Dream answered, though his eyes were on me scrambling to pull myself back up the chair. 

“No you’re not. You’re teasing our poor Gogy.” King Daniel chuckled. I poked my tongue out at Dream, but my skin tingled from the warmth that was there only a moment ago. 

“It’s okay, I’m tired anyway. We’ll continue another day.” King Daniel waved his hand dismally as he took a sip of his wine. We bowed in our leave, but before I could open the door, the King spoke up, “Dream, I hear that there’s a nice girl hanging around your chamber.” 

Dream didn’t turn back around, only gripping the door handle in my stead. His tone was light. 

“Maybe later, I’m tired.” The King only chuckled and looked at me. He brought his glass up and closed his eyes. 

Dream walked out and I followed, a bit confused. I knew of the girl that kept on hanging around his- our room. She never paid attention to me, but every time I came out for breakfast, she seemed to hold a distaste for me. I never said anything. I swallowed, feeling nervous and tight. 

“Do you like that girl?” I asked Dream, I know he’s seen her around. He only turns to me, light steps halting before starting again. We reach our room and wash up. 

“Do you?” His inquiry comes suddenly and I startle from my position on my cot. My cheeks flushed with an unknown source. 

“What? No, no, I just- I meant,” words were lost to me and I pleaded that he would understand what I meant. I tried again. “I meant, do you want-” 

He rushed at me, hand coming down next to me as he backed me down onto the cot. My back pressed against the sheet as his eyes seemed to burn. His voice was low, an unfamiliar rush down my spine, his breath ghosting over mine. 

“Enough about her.” He sounded annoyed. Hair falling around me, I swallowed with a loud heart. Then as fast as he came, he left with a breeze. I blinked, and he was across the room in his own bed. 

With one last look at me, he pulled his covers over himself. “Goodnight.” 

  
  


I trembled, sweat covered and sticky with the aroma that seemed so familiar. It started in dreams. The images came in flashes, in murky waves that have me gasping for breath and body aching. They begin with glimpses, of a hand, strong and smooth. Skin that reaches for that, to set me ablaze. It’s the curve of a neck and flesh that seem to taunt me. The fingers that I know, I can almost feel them glide over me in what I refused to admit. I tried side stepping these dreams, waking in the night and slipping out to run. The sweat that sticks to me, I convince myself it’s not him.

As the days pass, the sun stays longer, the breezes become few. The air was musty as I splashed in the clear water that rippled for miles. It was Dream’s birthday, the one where he turned thirteen. His features had grown with his beauty and I had to catch myself staring more often than not. We were playing in the sea, the wooden raft under us swaying, threatening to overturn. I had laughed when he had flicked a droplet at me, the water landing on my eyelashes. I wiped them away, clearing my sight to see him, basking under the open sky. The wind whispered, the sand churned, and the air grew still. I could not tear my eyes away from his deep breaths, his lashes that dance on his cheeks. 

“What?” His deep colored eyes, ones he told me are green, though they look like molten to me, looked deep into mine. I could only smile back, shifting near him, grazing our arms. The warmth settles in me and a stray hair lands on my shoulder, the wind offering it as a gift. I reach for it, desire to tug, like a boy seeking attention. Instead I rolled it between my fingers and looked up from my lashes, his face a mere few inches from mine. 

He looked different, the way his body turned to me, the way his muscles curved. Unknown breath caught in my throat. I could see his eyes search me, like I was of any interest to the prince. He was so close I could smell him. The sea fell away and all I could sense was him; the oils he put one, the musk of sweat and sea water dried upon his skin. He was so close that the flecks of gold in his eyes glistened and his breath grazed my cheeks. Before I could count all his lashes, we were kissing. Like the slide of butter, I was there. I could taste him, honey and sourness of grapes that he had sucked on earlier. Lips like a honeysuckle that dropped down, sweet and addicting. It made me tremble, my fingers moving to reach. _Want_. 

But the moment I felt him on my fingers, I gasped. Drawing back I felt the heat that had crawled and grasped at me, hurtle back. He was still, shoulders drawn and tight. The raft knocked against the sand and the movement sent him into motion. His hair waved at me, his figure retreating, away from the beach. _What have I done?_ I stared horrified after him. His eyes had held a rawness I could not understand. I stumbled after him, but he was long gone, him and his strong legs that carried him away. 

_Oh gods_ , I could wretch, his taste still on my tongue, _please let him not hate me._

It wasn’t the right call when I had braced my hand on a heated rock. The wind had whipped around me, the anger swirling within the sand. She had appeared before me, fury and black had seemed to hide the sun. My lips were still swollen with bittersweet and I stood in fear. 

“I saw.” Her voice held nothing but malice, like a poison tipped knife. She held it there, up to my throat. I could not answer. 

She stepped with her damp dress, the smell making me see his terror once again. She held me by the throat, teeth bared in a snarl. Her eyes held coldness with a satisfaction of her next words. 

“He will go tomorrow.” I felt the world spin under me. Felt the sand that stuck to my slicked skin, eyes closed. She was gone the moment I touched the ground. I could only numbly make my way back to our room. 

When I got back, Dream was awake, sitting idly on his bed. His eyes had snapped to me as I entered and washed my face. I did not know what to say. _I’m sorry, it was a mistake_. But the words got caught in my throat and I did not meet his eyes. It was a suffocating silence, one I endured until he said, “Tomorrow I will be gone.” 

I close my eyes, Thetis’ words echoed in my mind. _I know_. “Oh,” was my response. My throat was dry, heavy and clogged. I turned away. 

“I’m going to be taught by Darryl.” He paused. “He also taught other heroes, you know.” 

I nodded, the motion barely visible. _Not yet_ , he had told me, but his mother had deemed it differently. Dream sighed when I would not reply. He pulled his tunic over his head, his forearms rippling in motion. The perfect curve of his skin over his muscles brought the heat up my neck, the shame followed. I averted my gaze. 

In the morning, He left early. Dream glanced over at me, trying to question me, but I would not wake. I feigned sleep as I watched him dress and sling his bag over his shoulder through my half lidded eyes. I was awake, I had not slept. I wanted to get up and bid him a farewell, but I could not move, like there was a weight on me. He tried to say something, looking at me under the morning light. He did not say it. I closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened them, I was alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try and update at least once every two weeks, or more. This type of writing is kinda hard and I'll try and lengthen the chapters as we go.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it so far. 
> 
> p.s. all the ships are purely on the fact that i needed mc characters and nothing to do with irl shipping. 
> 
> follow me [@hurricanekat_025](https://twitter.com/hurricanekat025)on twitter for minecraft tingz


End file.
